


You Can't Change History with Fanfiction

by Calacious



Category: Jaws (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Author Bashing (but it's okay because I'm bashing myself), Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, International Fanworks Day 2020, Love, M/M, Matt Hooper's POV, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: While surfing the web, Brody comes across a certain bit of fanfiction, written by a certain writer. He finds it appalling as it brings back bad memories. Hooper tries to comfort him.
Relationships: Martin Brody/Matt Hooper
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	You Can't Change History with Fanfiction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Innocent Until Proven Guilty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481773) by [Calacious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious). 



> Written for International Fanworks Day 2020. Though I've been on A03 for several years now, I've never written for Fanworks day before. 
> 
> I had fun writing this. I did bash myself, as I wrote a fanfic about a fanfic I wrote, in honor of the challenge: "It’s time to get meta! We’d love to see characters discovering fanworks about themselves."
> 
> Kind of self-insert, but not really.
> 
> Thank you csi_sanders1129 for the read through and advice!

"Hey, Hooper. You know anything about crack?" Martin asks. 

He's squinting at a computer screen, face a few inches away from it as though that will give him a better understanding of crack. I think it's a little cute, though I don't say it. 

Instead, I place a hand on his shoulder and lean over until my face is next to his and glance at the website he's looking at. I have to squint a little as my glasses have a smudge. If Martin were to notice, he’d fuss over me and scold. He’d take my glasses and clean them.

"Crack is a drug," I say.

"I know that," Martin says, shaking his head and giving me a look that tells me I’m an idiot for pointing out the obvious.

He frowns and grimaces when he looks back at the screen. His brow furrows and I feel like kissing him, but don't. He gets a little pissy when he's fixated on something.

"Then why are you asking me?"

Martin gestures at the screen, moving back so that I can get a good look at it as well. 

"Archive of Our Own," I read aloud. "'Innocent Until Proven Guilty,' Calacious...who's Calacious?"

Martin shakes his head and gives me that  _ look _ . The one he reserves for me when he thinks I'm being particularly dense. It shouldn't be sexy, but it is. I really need a cold shower.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Fanfiction," Martin says. 

" _ Fan  _ fiction?"

"According to the dictionary, fanfiction is: 'fiction written by a fan of, and featuring characters from, a particular TV series, movie, etc.'" Martin reads from a legal notepad, squinting at his untidy scrawl. Of course he’s taken notes.

There are a few doodles, and the word CRACK is written in the middle of the page, a blue circle around it giving it even more prominence on the yellow paper. I shake my head. He hasn't changed much over the years, anal as always, but that's part of why I love him.

"Okay," I say, not really understanding what all the fuss is about. It seems harmless enough, fans writing about characters from movies, books and shows that they like. It’s probably flattering to the original creators of the works. After all, Oscar Wilde said, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness.” 

"This story is about Jaws," Martin says, once more gesturing toward the computer screen. "It's not about a TV series or a movie. It's about a real life event. It's about that...that monster." 

Martin shivers and I squeeze his shoulder wishing that I could pull him into my arms and comfort him. Though we'd eradicated the threat that the great white shark the newspapers had dubbed, Jaws, years ago, both of us still suffer from the occasional nightmare even forty-five years after the terrible events that had shaken the residents of Amity Island, and us. Both of us had almost died.

"What's it say?" I ask. "And what does crack have to do with it?"

"It's marked as 'crack'," Martin says. 

"Huh, maybe the writer means that this story is so crazy that you'd have to be on crack to understand it? Or maybe the writer was on crack when they wrote it?" 

Martin shakes his head and leans back. I press a kiss to his cheek, and start massaging his shoulders, hoping to ease some of the tension in them.

"Read some of it to me?" 

Martin groans when I press on a particularly hard knot. He closes his eyes and sags a little. Smiling, I work at the knot until it loosens and Martin smiles that lazy half smile that he gets when he's comfortable and feeling a little frisky. He turns his head and grabs my chin, pulls me onto his knee and kisses me. 

"I love you," he says. 

"I know. Now read to me, babe."

Martin chuckles and I rest my head on his shoulder. We're older than we were when we faced off with a mad white shark, but we're not too old for this.

"'I'm just a shark, out minding my own business when I see a damsel in distress, and naturally, being the kind, helpful soul that I am, I swim on over and see what I can do to help.’” Martin reads. 

I chuckle.  _ As if _ , I think.

“‘What do I get in return for my trouble? An ear-piercing scream, followed by memory loss, and disorientation, and a hunting party out for my blood.’” Martin continues. 

“Hmm.” I’m starting to understand why this is bothering Martin so much. 

The story, such as it is, seems to be written from the killer shark’s (the ‘villain’ of our near death experience) perspective. The pen name Calacious must stand for callous, at least in part.

“‘You know, I think that blackout thing might stem back to childhood trauma.'" Martin finishes. He clears his throat. 

"Childhood trauma," he repeats, a faraway look in his eyes. He’s shaking.

I know he's thinking about his sons, Sean and Michael. He's thinking about their childhood trauma, caused by the very shark that Calacious had chosen to give a voice to. He's thinking about how he almost lost them. He's thinking about how they were terrified of the water, how Sean suffered from night terrors for years afterward. He’s thinking about his own childhood trauma which nearly crippled him whenever he got near a body of water.

This writer, Calacious, whoever the fuck they are, obviously knows nothing about sharks, or about the events that took place in the waters surrounding Amity Island forty-five years ago. They know nothing of the tragedy. Nothing of the pain and suffering that Martin...his family... that  _ I _ went through -- the man had lost his wife (though I don't complain about that as it brought us together), and nearly lost his children. I almost lost Martin. Almost lost my sanity.

People's lives were lost, and this person, this Calacious, whoever they are, had written on behalf of a shark who'd taken the lives of innocent people and wrought havoc on an entire community. After hearing Martin read, it's suddenly obvious to me what the word, 'crack', as it pertains to 'fanfiction' (and what a sick individual Calacious is to be a fan of such a terrible historical event, and a bloodthirsty shark) means. It means that the writer is cracked. Insane. A sociopath. Cold-blooded, like a shark.

I say none of this to Martin, but reach over his hand to close the window that hosts the story. "We were there," I say. "No work of fiction can rewrite our history. Our reality."

"I know," Martin says. His Adam apple bobs when he swallows. There's a haunted look in his eyes, and I know that there will be no sleep for either of us tonight.

_ Fuck you very much, Calacious, you’re one cracked motherfucker,  _ I think uncharitably as I coax Martin away from the computer. It's going to be a  _ very _ long night, not that I mind. Martin is as much of a comfort to me as I am to him in this cracked up little world that we live in.

  
  



End file.
